


The Rest Can't Wait

by evaagna



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Begging, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Insomnia, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaagna/pseuds/evaagna
Summary: Malcolm never sleeps well, but he tries to stay in bed when Gil is over, if only to take comfort in his presence. Tonight, he's having an especially hard time. He knows a good orgasm would help knock him out, but unfortunately Gil is already sound asleep.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109
Collections: Prodigal Son Trash Swap Spring 2020!





	The Rest Can't Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/gifts).



> I present you with macaroni art for your reading pleasure!

Malcolm stares into the darkness, listening to the even sound of Gil’s gentle snores beside him. He wants nothing more than to let that soft noise lull him to sleep, knowing that he’s safe tucked in Gil’s arms. Unfortunately, things never seem to be that easy. 

He and sleep aren’t friends—haven’t been for a long time, so this is nothing new to him or Gil. It’s not even that tonight is particularly worse than any other night. He’s just… he doesn’t even know, especially exhausted, maybe? The team finally, _finally_ solved the case that they’ve been working for the last month and a half. Arresting the young woman responsible before she had the chance to kill again should have been a relief, but….

If he’s being honest, the problem is that Malcolm can picture himself in her place, if ten or so years ago he’d taken a different path. The thought is more terrifying than he would have expected, so instead of finding rest, his mind is racing. Part of him is afraid that the usual figures in his nightmares will be joined by a new face, but he doesn't know if it will be hers or his own.

He sighs and shifts as much as the one restraint he’s wearing will allow. This is the kind of night he often spends pacing the loft or wandering the streets, but he hates to do that to Gil. If he wakes up and finds Malcolm gone, he’ll worry more than he already does. 

So, Malcolm settles back into the bed instead, taking deep, even breaths as he pushes the thoughts from his mind. He spends a few long minutes working through the usual mindfulness exercises that he uses to center himself and ease his anxiety, but it quickly becomes apparent that tonight it won’t be enough. He peeks over at Gil. There’s really only one thing that consistently settles him enough to give him a good night’s sleep, and it isn’t exactly available right now. 

Malcolm sighs again and rolls onto his back. Even if he can’t get fucked at this exact moment, that doesn’t mean he can’t get off, at least. It won’t be as effective at knocking him out, but an orgasm is still an orgasm. 

His free hand slips under the covers, finding the waistband of his boxers. He hesitates there for a moment, fingers skimming the delicate skin of his stomach, tickling the dusting of fine hair there. His bound hand clenches in the sheets—in anticipation, in frustration—and then he swallows, glancing to Gil beside him.

Malcolm starts slowly, just palming himself through the thin fabric of his shorts. There’s the familiar thrum of warmth that always comes with friction and intent, but it doesn’t get him far. He’s too stressed, too anxious, too tired to really get into it. He groans, tossing his head to the side. At this point he’s desperate for rest, though, and he knows this will help. If this case hadn’t been so draining, they would have fucked like rabbits tonight, just to celebrate—not that Malcolm can blame Gil for falling asleep nearly the moment they stepped in the door.

So, he focuses on the sound of Gil’s breathing as his hand slips into his shorts. He imagines those breaths stuttering, growing rough and uneven with arousal. He imagines Gil’s hand replacing his own. He imagines Gil’s nails scraping along the delicate skin of his inner thighs before those long, warm fingers wrap around his cock. He would squeeze him first, thumb sliding over the head, then slowly start to pump just the way that drives Malcolm crazy. Gil’s grip is always so sure, so commanding, so grounding. He’d work Malcolm up until he can’t stand it, until he’s begging for it. 

Malcolm’s own hand mirrors Gil’s in his imagination. He pauses just long enough to free his other hand from the restraint and scramble for the lube that they keep in the nightstand. He shoves the drawer closed with more force than intended, wincing when it shuts with a loud _clack_. Gil doesn’t stir, though, so he flips open the cap and squeezes out more lube than he really needs. 

He slips back into the fantasy so, so easily. Gil’s warm presence is right beside him, his scent soaking into the sheets. Malcolm imagines Gil’s breath ghosting along his neck, chuckling something filthy in his ear. His free hand comes up to his chest, smoothing over a nipple and then _pinching_ on just the right side of too hard. At the same time, he tightens his grip on his cock, but no matter how hard he tries to mimic exactly how he knows Gil’s hands would feel, it isn’t enough—he doesn’t have the right callouses, his palm is too small. 

He releases his nipple and shifts, rearranging himself until he can get his hand where he needs it most. A slick finger brushes over his hole. One won’t give him the stretch that he craves, so he skips ahead to two. Working himself open is usually something he enjoys, but right now he needs more. He presses his fingers as deep as he can reach and bucks up into his grasp, a strangled moan sticking in his throat. He needs _more_. 

Jerking off isn’t enough. He needs to be filled. He needs to be _fucked_. He needs— 

Suddenly Gil shifts, turning from his side onto his back. Malcolm freezes, hand pausing mid-stroke. He swallows hard as he struggles to stay still, but Gil sighs and doesn’t move again. _Still asleep_.

An idea wriggles into his mind. What he needs is to get fucked, and… Gil’s _right there_. It would be so easy just to straddle his lap and— 

Malcolm shifts, turning to face the other man. Gil always tells him that he’ll give him whatever he needs, whenever he needs it. His breath catches in his throat as he slips a hand into Gil’s pajama pants. His fingers are still sticky and slick, but it will just make it that much easier to work him up. Once he gets Gil in his grip, he starts slow, easing up and down the length of him with steady motions. 

The feel of him filling out in Malcolm’s palm makes the younger man’s mouth water. The weight of him, the warmth, the way he twitches when Malcolm twists on the upswing—it fills Malcolm with a heady anticipation that clouds his mind with one thought: Gil, Gil, _Gil_. His hand doesn’t waver as he leans forward so his lips are a hair’s breadth from Gil’s chest. He lets his tongue dart out to taste, quickly, then again more thoroughly, swirling around the dusky bud. Gil moans, hips involuntarily stuttering up, but he still doesn’t wake.

Once Gil is fully hard, Malcolm pulls back. He feels around for the lube, finding it in the sheets where he discarded it. He pushes Gil’s pants down just enough to pull him free and slicks him up. He lifts up onto his knees and slides a leg across Gil's hips, moving to straddle him. Slowly, so that he doesn't disturb the sleeping man, he lines himself up, one hand on Gil’s cock and the other on his chest for balance. He sinks down, gasping, mouth open, moaning at the heat. He takes it in a little faster than he knows that he should; his prep was minimal at best, but the burn is perfect. 

Once he’s fully seated, Malcolm stays there for a long moment and lets himself revel in the fullness. _This_ is what he needed—the heaviness, the stretch, the steady ache of it. He wishes Gil was awake so he could kiss him, so they could tangle their tongues together until he forgets that he needs to breathe, so Gil could wrap him up in his arms and take care of him the way that he really wants. 

The very thought of it is enough to spur him on. With the first rock of his hips, Gil groans beneath him, rolling up in abortive, unconscious thrusts. Malcolm lifts himself up, pausing just before the tip slips out, and sinks back down. It makes Gil’s face twist in pleasure. Malcolm wonders what turn his dreams are taking right now. He does it again and this time moans in sync with the man beneath him. He builds up until he’s pumping himself up and down Gil’s length in earnest, thighs straining with the effort. He doesn’t touch himself, instead savoring the drag of Gil’s thick cock sliding inside him. On an especially deep thrust, the blunt head glances off his prostate and Malcolm cries out.

It must be too loud because Gil moans again. “Wh—” This time it’s a lot closer to coherent, a lot closer to _awake_. His head tosses to the side, eyes squeezing shut. “Bright?”

Malcolm gasps like the air’s been punched out of him. “Gil, _Gil_.” He can’t tell which words are actually tumbling out and which are just ricocheting inside his head. All he knows is that he doesn’t want this to stop. “Please,” he hisses, “I’m so close.”

Gil blinks, eyes bleary and bewildered. He starts to sit up, but Malcolm’s hands on his chest push him back down. It takes him a second to find his voice. “Bright, what—?” 

The moment Gil says his name, Malcolm tumbles over the edge. He grinds himself down, hitting just the right spot, and comes, gasping Gil’s name. Waves of ecstasy crash over him as he comes in long spurts, spattering Gil’s stomach and chest, some landing on his chin. The sight of it sends another burst of fireworks up Malcolm’s body, so he squeezes his eyes shut, gulping in air and soaking up every sensation. He clenches down without realizing it, body pulsing around Gil’s still rock-hard cock. 

“Holy _shit_ , kid.”

Malcolm freezes, eyes snapping open and locking with Gil’s. “Gil, I—”

Gil shakes his head like he’s clearing the last of sleep from his mind, but then chuckles. “What, city boy, couldn’t wait?” His voice is still rough from sleep, but it doesn’t carry any of the lingering confusion that Malcolm saw on his face just heartbeats ago. His hands move to Malcolm’s hips, thumb rubbing circles into the joint. “Just that desperate for daddy’s cock, aren't you?”

Malcolm whines. It’s not really a question and there’s no point in denying it. “Gil, _Daddy_ ,” he breathes, “I couldn’t sleep, and—” 

Gil thrusts up suddenly, cutting him off. “Yeah, I know, baby,” he murmurs, “I told you, _whatever_ you need.”

Malcolm stutters a moan. “Gil, _please_ —” His body is loose and relaxed with his release, leaving him to luxuriate in the pressure of Gil inside him, but he still needs _more_. He leans forward to lick a stripe of his own come off Gil’s chest, then follows it up to the smear on his chin. He licks that off too, moving up to catch Gil’s bottom lip in his teeth, and pulls him into a searing kiss.

Gil immediately opens to the tongue tracing the seam of his lips. Malcolm takes advantage of the moment to explore Gil’s mouth, drinking him in just the way he’d imagined. Gil doesn’t let him keep control for long, though. His hands tighten on Malcolm's hips until it feels like they’ll bruise and then he thrusts up hard. He gets a knee up to give him enough leverage to flip them both over, pinning Malcolm to the mattress beneath him. He takes a moment to rearrange them, getting one of Malcolm’s legs over his shoulder, and sinks right back in. 

The motion sends zings of pleasure up Malcolm’s spine. He hisses at the push and pull of Gil pumping in and out, and at the friction against his soft cock caught between them. It gives a halfhearted twitch, but it’s still too soon for much more than that. It doesn’t even matter, is the thing; his orgasm was great, of course, but getting fucked is almost better. He’s more than content to let Gil just use his body. “Daddy,” he begs, “ _Please_ — Fill me up. I need you." 

Gil pushes him forward, angling Malcolm’s hips so he can get deeper, so he can get just the angle he wants. He groans when Malcolm just lets it happen, pliable under his hands. "That’s it, baby," he says.

Malcolm rolls his hips and meets his thrusts as best he can with what little leverage he has in this position. When Gil’s rhythm begins to falter, Malcolm knows he must be close. His muscles tighten around Gil’s length and he strains up to capture his lips again.

With one last thrust, Gil buries himself deep, grinding in and coming with a low groan. Malcolm tenses beneath him. He can feel each hot spurt filling him up, and it’s exactly what he’s been craving. He gasps at the sensation; it sends little shocks of satisfaction straight up his spine, almost like he's coming again himself.

They collapse together, heedless of the mess. Malcolm is too tired to care how sticky he is, anyway. He knows they should probably talk about what just happened, but right now he’s too content wrapped in Gil’s arms, nuzzled into his chest, feeling the haze of sleep finally clouding over his mind, to even think about it.

Eventually Gil does break the silence. “You know _some_ of us need our beauty sleep, but,” he says, voice soft and lilting up like he’s cracking a joke, half asleep and blissed out, “Feel free to try that again, sometime.”

Malcolm cracks open an eye, not even bothering to lift his head. “Hell of a way to wake up, I imagine.” He smiles into Gil’s skin. 

Gil presses a kiss into his hair and chuckles. The feeling of it reverberates between them. “Goodnight, Malcolm.”

Malcolm hums, but doesn’t manage more of a reply before sleep finally takes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to TheCosmicMushroom for her awesome, amazing, absolutely fabulous beta help!!


End file.
